


Bring Me Back To Life

by ExoBtsGot7Svt



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coping, Cute, Dialogue Light, Drinking, Emotional Healing, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Hwa helps joong cope with his past, M/M, Sad hongjoong, Sad with a Happy Ending, Strangers to Lovers, Suicidal Thoughts, sweetheart park seonghwa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:34:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExoBtsGot7Svt/pseuds/ExoBtsGot7Svt
Summary: When Hongjoong was six, he lost his parents.When Hongjoong was fifteen, he lost his sister.When Hongjoong was twenty-one, drunk, and ready to jump over the rail of his hole in the wall apartment complex, Seonghwa kept him from losing himself.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 3
Kudos: 159





	Bring Me Back To Life

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is but I got a random urge to write and this is what came to mind. Enjoy I guess

When Hongjoong was six, he lost his parents.

The memory of that horrible day would be forever burned into his brain. The screams, the smell of burning rubber, the screeching of metal being ripped apart, the feeling of shattered glass spraying across his face. He and his sister had been the only ones to survive the fatal car wreck and only barely.

Hongjoong remembered hanging upside down, crying and confused, his sister grabbing his hand from where she also hung, trapped by her seatbelt and unsuccessfully attempting to reassure him as she panicked herself. He would never forget when they were finally rescued from the wreck, how his parents were nowhere in sight. He wanted to look for them but two paramedics were holding him, examining his injuries and trying to distract him as others were desperately trying to get to their parents when-

Hongjoong would never forget hearing the car explode. Hearing his sisters wail of " _NO!"_ because their parents hadn't been rescued. He wouldn't forget the following weeks of recovery spent in the hospital, of his sister crawling into his bed because he kept waking up screaming from nightmares that she shared. Of temporary homes and phone calls and new faces and having to say bye to his childhood home forever as they were placed into foster care.

His older sister had become his rock, his best friend, his everything. They were like glue. Where one was, the other could surely be found nearby. She took care of him, watched over him, cuddled him when he cried, played with him. They only had each other after the loss of their parents and as Hongjoong grew older, the less he ached for them and the more he believed they would be ok.

Then, because he truly believed the universe hated him, he lost his sister. She was only seventeen years old, caught up in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was making a quick trip to the corner store, not allowing the fifteen year old to tag along because it was getting late and "I'll only take a minute, Joong-ah, and I don't need you trying to buy every snack in sight."

He could admit that she had a point. So he waited. He watched her waltz off down the street, watched until she turned the corner and left his sight, and he sat on the doorstep and waited. He stared at the corner, waiting patiently for her to reappear with the signature green bag of the corner store, eagerly awaiting the sweet rice drink she'd promised him.

She never came back. Later that night, after being dragged back into the foster home at 11pm - his sister had left at 9:23 - the police showed up. He listened in from his hiding place in the staircase, covered by the shadows. A robbery at the corner store. Every patron and employee shot and killed. Hongjoong hasn't had a sweet rice drink since.

After the death of his sister, Hongjoong spiraled. His life had lost all meaning at that point. He no longer smiled, it took several people and force-feeding for him to eat, he missed day after day of school, unable to get out of bed and do more than stare blankly at the wall.

The foster home owner tried everything she could to get the teen out of that state yet nothing worked. She gave up and three days later, Hongjoong got out of bed in the morning for the first time in months. There was a shared relief in the home because maybe he was finally feeling better, maybe he would start acting normal again but the relief shattered along with the glass vase Hongjoong purposely knocked to the floor.

He began acting out. Staying out past curfew, being disrespectful - everything of a stereotypical rebellious teen minus the drugs and drinking. He became a menace, no longer the sweet little boy people had come to know.

When he turned 19, he got kicked out of the foster home. For months he lived between alleyways, living off of pity money until he got a job as a barista, the coffee shop owner nice enough to allow him to sleep and basically live in the employee break room as long as he didn't steal. He saved up and six months later, moved into his own apartment. It was tiny and cramped - a disgusting hole in the wall - but it was his. He survived there with his few clothes and belongings.

At 21, Hongjoong was done. With work, with people, with life. ~~Living~~ Surviving on minimum wage with barely a high school education only served to make things even harder on him. He was stuck at the low paying barista job because better jobs required better education which he didn't have.

He went through the motions every day. Waking up two hours before he had to be up so he could stare at the wall and muster up the motivation to get out of bed, eating what could barely be considered a breakfast ( a single piece of toast and string cheese), working, coming back to his apartment and eating instant ramen for dinner, then crying himself to sleep with memories of his sister and parents.

Hongjoong was done. With everything. The judgement, the nightmares, the stupid broken heater that he didn't have the money to fix. He was sick of everything. Of constantly aching yet feeling nothing. Of crying and anger and sorrow. That's what led him here.

Here being the tiny balcony that jutted out of his tiny apartment. Here on the cracked concrete with the rusted railing. Here with his sixth beer, leaning over the rail and staring with drunk blurred eyes at the city lights and passing cars below.

Six stories up. If he jumped, he wouldn't make it. He knew this. It was the reason he never came out onto his balcony because every time he did, he only thought about how easily he could rejoin his dead family. But now, on his 21st birthday with way too much alcohol in his system, he found himself there in the cool fall night, leaning against the rickety railing.

Hongjoong didn't fear death. No, death had taken too much from him for him to fear it. He could do it. Jump. No one would know. No one would care. He could do it.

Bringing the bottle up to his lips, Hongjoong took a long swig of the bitter liquor. He didn't drink it for taste. He drank it because it was better than wallowing in misery and memories. His brain felt foggy and his eyes haven't focused properly since his fourth bottle.

He leaned further over the railing. Felt the wind in his hair. Heard the buzz of the city. He leaned even further. His bare feet lifted off of the concrete, on the tips of his toes. He could do it. He really could. He had no reason to stay. Leaned even further -

"Are you sure about this?"

The bottle fell as he startled and he stared after it, bare feet settling back onto the balcony as he turned to the voice. To his left, leaning against his own railing, stood Hongjoong's neighbor. He'd never seen the man - granted, he'd never seen any of the tenants considering he avoided interaction as much as physically possible.

He blinked several times at his neighbor, blurry eyes barely clearing enough to get a good look at him. He wore a simple white shirt and gray joggers, his long black hair messy atop his head, and his eyebrows vaguely reminded Hongjoong of angry bird. The man offered a small smile.

"Didn't mean to scare the beer out of your hand but I'd much rather that fall than you." He spoke again after it became obvious Hongjoong wouldn't respond to his initial question. "I'm Park Seonghwa. And you are?"

Hongjoong stared. Why was this man - Park Seonghwa- talking to him? 

"Hongjoong," he slurred back after a moment.

"Hongjoong," Seonghwa echoed, smile broadening. "Such a pretty name for a pretty boy."

Hongjoong physically startled again, stumbling backwards. "P-pretty?" His voice went no higher than a whisper. Seonghwa heard still, and nodded.

"Yes. I've only seen you around a few times but from the glimpses, and now, you're a very attractive person. So it has me wondering just why exactly someone so beautiful was two seconds from falling to their death."

Instead of responding, Hongjoong turned and retreated into his apartment. His foggy mind raced, confused, and he didn't realize what he was doing until the door opened, a surprised Seonghwa greeting him. He stumbled into the tallers arms and was led inside of his neighbors apartment.

That night, Hongjoong cried. But he didn't cry alone, curled up on his twin sized bed, beneath his thin sheets and ratty blanket. He cried to his neighbor, his sweet neighbor who held him without question, who didn't kick him - a technically drunk stranger- out after he'd basically come barging into his home. He cried then slept -again, not alone with his single pillow and pitiful excuse for warm clothes but against a warm chest with strong arms wrapped around him and a sweet voice lulling him to sleep.

Over the next few weeks, Hongjoong became friends with Park Seonghwa. He'd never had a friend before. He smiled for the first time in years. The sensation of his lips spreading and cheeks aching was odd. But welcomed. Hongjoong learned what it was like to laugh and joke and have fun again.

Over the next few months, Hongjoong started opening up to Seonghwa. The other man was an open book, happily sharing stories - happy and sad - from his past and childhood. Unlike him, though, the mere thought of his past made Hongjoong clam up. Seonghwa was a very good people reader. He learned what words or topics were touchy to Hongjoong, what he could and couldn't say around him. Seonghwa was sweet, patient, never prying though Hongjoong could tell he wanted to know more about him. So he told him. Little by little. Over a period of days and weeks and months and Seonghwa was always there to hug him and sing to him, wiping away his tears every time he cried. Seonghwa was there to help him pick up and find all his broken pieces and help him put himself back together.

Over the next few years, Hongjoong fell in love with Seonghwa. With the other man's help, he enrolled in online college classes, discovered his love for music, and started living. His past no longer haunted him or weighed him down. He no longer went through the motions. He no longer only survived. He lived. He had a reason to. He had Seonghwa. The night he confessed was the same night they made love for the first of many times and Hongjoong had never felt more alive and happy and content in his entire life.

They bought a house together and adopted two dogs. Hongjoong graduated, Seonghwa became a well known songwriter and everyday Hongjoong came home from his internship at a big name music company, it was a race between Seonghwa and the dogs to get Hongjoong's attention first. Life was great. Perfect even. He still had his days where a nightmare would return but Seonghwa - sweet, patient, loving, Seonghwa - was still there to hold him and sing to him, wiping his tears away when he cried.

At six, Hongjoong lost his parents.

At fifteen, he lost his sister.

At twenty one, he almost lost his life.

At thirty two, he was a big name music producer working alongside his savior, best friend and husband, loving life.

  



End file.
